While the Buddha was in the south of Magadha, I travelled among the people of Kosala. One day I had accepted an invitation to travel in a bullock wagon. The road was seamed with ruts and as the wagon jolted down into a particularly deep one, I was thrown out. When I picked myself up, I found that the pain in my back, to which I had grown accustomed, had apparently disappeared. I could hardly believe it, and I expected every moment that it would come back, but it did not do so. My first feeling was one of bounding joy. But sternly I put this thought from me. Not again would I make islands of the pleasures of worldly life. There is no place either for complaining or for gratitude, for nothing we have is ours, there is no permanent self which can possess anything. If health were now restored, it was restored only for the well-being of sentient beings.
Yasa, the sixth disciple of the Buddha
from Footprints of Gautama the Buddha